Jealousy Is Not a Sin
by Alysmiller
Summary: A bit of Stendan angst and fluff.


**So this is a special little fic that my lovely friend Ella requested. I thought I'd grant her wish seeing as she hasn't been very well lately. Mega thanks to Hollie for helping me come up with some of the ideas! I didn't think much about the time in which it's set, but I'm going to say after Brendan comes back from prison, although the slum is still in tact. And also, Brendan turned to alcohol when he got released.**

**Enjoy!**

It's Brendan who wakes first. It's usually Steven that's wide awake when he hears a noise but he's out like a light due to how hard he's been working at The Hutch lately. Leah has had a nightmare. Brendan can hear her crying in the room next door. He grunts as he gets out of bed, tries to do so gently so he doesn't wake Steven and he tiptoes out, the pink fairy lights blinding him slightly as he enters Leah and Lucas' shared room.

He's right. Leah is crying into her teddy bear, blond hair mussed in every direction whilst Lucas is still soundly asleep.

'Hey sweetheart. What's up?'

Brendan whispers, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and touching her shoulder tentatively. She throws herself into his arms and sobs, breaths occasionally skipping, her small body trembling in fear.

'I had a bad dream.'

She mutters, her breath sinking through the material of Brendan's shirt and warming his skin. He cradles her in his large arms, rocks her back and forth slowly. He's managed to get to grips with being a father again, lost his touch when he ran away from his boys, abandoned them. He'd never been a brilliant father in the first place, skipped Declan's school play once and used the excuse that he had to work when really he went out and picked up a bloke that took his fancy, lead him to a back alley and fucked him till he broke a sweat.

But now he's there. For everything that these children do. They might not actually be his but they are. They're his family now and he'd do anything to protect them. Kill. Be killed.

'What happened? Eh?'

Leah untangles her arms from around Brendan's neck and wipes her nose with the cuff of her pink dressing gown, her eyes red and tired, the whites bloodshot.

'Daddy got hit by a mini bus again and this time he didn't wake up.'

Her eyes swell as she tells him the story, her breath getting caught in her throat occasionally from her amount and strength of crying. Brendan rubs her back gently and wipes away the tears as they fall.

'Your daddy ain't ever gunna get hurt again okay? You don't have to worry. You know daddy Brendan will look after him don't you?'

She nods but not with the conviction that Brendan would like. It's like she doesn't believe him, like she thinks that he's only telling her that because it's what she wants to hear.

'How many times has your dad been hurt since I came back?'

He asks, pulling her body in closer to his chest and brushing the hair away from her face.

'He banged his head on the table yesterday.'

Brendan blushes at the thought. It was 11pm and the kids had been put to bed at usual time. Steven was horny as fuck, his sex drive soaring through the roof due to the lack of intimacy the pair had had over the past few weeks. The Hutch had been swept off its feet with how busy it was and the club was shutting later than usual due to the interviews being carried out during the day to find new staff.

There's nothing that Steven loves more than having Brendan's dick down his throat and that's exactly what was happening. He was giving Brendan one hell of a blow job under the dining table when Leah walked into the living room after waking up needing the toilet. The pair of them had jumped out of their skins and Steven smacked his head on the table when Brendan kicked him away. They told her that Lucas had dropped some Lego under the table and Steven was trying to retrieve it. Of course, talking to Leah whilst she's half asleep meant that she believed them easily.

'Yeah but when has he been properly hurt? Not silly little stuff like that.'

She thinks about it, taking her lip between her teeth.

'None. And that's how it'll stay Leah. He won't ever get hurt again okay?'

Leah nods, seemingly convinced and Brendan kisses her forehead, peeling back the pink duvet and tucking her back into bed. She falls asleep almost instantly.

Brendan steps lightly back into his bedroom and slips into bed gently, fails to prevent Steven from stirring because he rolls over and slings an arm over Brendan's chest.

'She okay?'

He asks, his voice croaky and deep. He's still half asleep and sounds dazed but is conscious enough to know what's going on.

'She's fine now.'

He circulates his arm around Steven's shoulders and kisses his hair, a shot in the dark seeing as he can't see anything. Kissing him alone is enough though because at one point he never thought he would be able to again.

* * *

The morning sun shines through the curtains, its streams directed perfectly in Brendan's eyes. He'd told Steven that they should get black out blinds but the boy had insisted otherwise, said it was too much aggravation having to take the curtains down and put the blinds up.

The older man curses as he raises his hand to try and block out the light, gets frustrated in the end and turns his back to it so he's facing Steven who is already awake, eyes wide and as blue as the depths of the ocean. He's got stubble this morning, obviously hasn't shaved in a couple of days. He's not the sort of man that grows it overnight. He can last two, maybe three days without it being noticeable. Brendan runs his thumb over it and Steven smiles, starts to touch it himself and he scrunches up his nose in distaste, never has liked it. He finds it itchy and the only thing he likes to scratch in relation to stubble, is the irritation he gets between his legs from where Brendan goes down on him.

'You need a shave.'

Brendan says, leaning forward and kissing the stubble above Steven's lip. He likes the prickle of it against his thumb but loves the feeling of his soft skin even more, has always liked the fact that Steven is younger than him. The keeping of his youth, the soft skin, the natural lack of chest hair and boyish smile has always been a turn on for him.

'What time is it?'

'Still early. I've gotta get up in a minute for work. Your turn to take the kids to school today and this time, don't let Leah bribe you into letting her stay with you. She has to go to school.'

Steven says, poking Brendan in the chest with his index finger to make it imperative. Leah somehow knows how to work Brendan, is sassy like her father and that's probably why he lets her get away with murder. Lucas is a quiet child and doesn't really ask for much but when Leah wants something, she'll flip a switch and get it any way she can. Most of the time, Brendan can't be bothered to argue and he surrenders quite quickly to her demands.

Steven tries to argue a little further, can see that his statement has gone in one ear and out the other but before he gets a chance, Brendan drags him closer with one arm and plants a long, lingering kiss on his lips, deliberately rubs his hips against Steven's to reiterate that he has a raging hard on that needs dealing with.

'Brendan not now. I need to go to work. We've got a delivery soon and I'm still training the new chefs.'

Brendan kisses him between every other word, wants to silence him because they always make time for each other, no matter how cut short time is.

'No Brendan I'm serious right. I've gotta have a shower and a shave.'

He satisfies his man with one final kiss and shoves him off. Brendan can see that he has a morning boner that needs attending to but before he can lure the boy back into bed he's already out of the room.

The Irishman takes the kids to school as planned and thankfully, Leah doesn't play up. Whether Steven had a chat with her before he left Brendan doesn't know but she seems to enter the gates with a new found enthusiasm.

Steven pops round to the club later on during his break, before it's scheduled to open and needless to say, they both fumble around on the bar, kissing and groping and touching, lifting shirts out from the rim of each others trousers just to touch skin. It's harmless flirting and is ready to turn into something far more intimate but before Brendan can lie Steven flat out on the surface and fuck him, the boy wriggles his way out of his grip, tucks his shirt back in and says that his break is over. He tries to lure him back, even gets on his knees and begins to undo Steven's fly and the boy is so close to giving in. He runs his fingers through the Irishman's hair and gently pushes his crotch against his waiting lips, wants to, so badly. Before he caves completely, he bends over to give Brendan one final kiss and practically runs out of the club, leaves the older man kneeling on the floor with a bulge in his trousers. Brendan sorts his erection out with a quick, hard wank in the office, needs _something_ to satisfy this hunger that Steven is starving him of.

He sorts out any remaining paper work, places an order and manages to fill in another month's rota for the staff before he's able to open. Interviews are continuing through out the week but for now Brendan has enough staff to stay afloat. All he is in need of is another barman and a bouncer. The two aren't necessities as such but seeing as the club has gained a bit of popularity due to Brendan spending a bit of money on promoting, the numbers are beginning to increase.

After a long day, Brendan makes his way home, the temperature just below freezing outside although it's nice when it hits his skin because it tends to get extremely hot and stuffy in the club. It's just gone 3am so Steven is likely to be asleep. He enters quietly, not wanting to wake the kids, and rests his head momentarily against the door, is so glad that that day is over. It wasn't stressful at all but it seemed to drag, seemed to feel like three days merged into one.

He doesn't hear Steven behind him. He feels him first. Long fingers curl over the peak of his shoulders and link over his chest, breath light and warm on the side of Brendan's face.

'Thought you'd be asleep.'

Brendan says, his hands sliding down the door and parting as Steven removes his jacket and hooks it up.

'I thought I'd wait up.'

The Irishman hums neutrally and turns in Steven's embrace, wraps his arms around the boy's thin torso and drags him into his body. Kissing him in this low light, in this silence has never felt so intimate. They feel close, feel warm despite Brendan's clothes and skin being freezing cold.

'I don't sleep as well when you're not in bed with me.'

Steven looks at the Irishman expectantly, as if wanting something romantic said in return but he should know that Brendan doesn't do this whole, romance lark. It's not in his nature.

'That's very romantic Steven. I think you miss riding me until the early hours.'

'Brendan.'

The boy frowns and thumps Brendan's chest with a closed fist. Not hard by any means but Brendan has a tendency to kill any such romantic mood.

'How was the club today anyway?'

'Same old. More interviews and what not.'

'You're _still_ looking for new staff? You've been interviewing for months.'

Steven asks, his tone icy and cold. He unravels himself from Brendan's grip and backs into the living room, takes a seat on the sofa when his calves hit the edge. He sits heavily, like he does when he's sulking.

'The right person for the job hasn't come along yet. I don't want to just throw it at someone.'

'You mean the best looking person hasn't come along yet.'

The boy mumbles, folding his arms and pouting, his lip protruding in the way that it does. Brendan shifts on his feet and stuffs his hands into his pockets, is confused momentarily by Steven's bitterness, isn't sure as to whether he's being earnest.

'Are you serious?'

Brendan laughs. Actually laughs. He takes a seat next to the younger man, wants to look at him, _needs_ to look at him to make sure that he has the right end of the stick here.

'That's what it is though init? I guarantee that plenty of people have walked through those doors who are perfectly capable of collecting glasses and throwing piss heads outside, yet you're being picky about it? Na Brendan you're looking for someone who takes your fancy aren't you?'

The Irishman shakes his head vigorously because it's not true. He's picky when it comes to staff, Steven should know that. He goes to touch the younger man but he pulls his arm away violently.

'Are you bored of me? Is that it? Because I'm not 21 any more so you want to venture on to the next twink you hire?'

How Steven could ever think that is beyond Brendan. He fought so hard to get him back, worked his ass off to become the man that he and Steven so desperately wanted. He wouldn't drop his relationship in favour of a search for some eye candy.

'Steven are you hearing yourself right now?! Did you smoke a joint before I got back or something?'

Brendan asks, dumbfounded, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt roughly.

'You know what, I'm not even gunna have this conversation with you.'

'Well you started it.'

'Now I'm finishing it!'

Steven gets to his feet and storms off towards their shared bedroom. Brendan expects to hear the door slam but he doesn't, probably because the kids are asleep and the boy doesn't want to deal with them waking up.

'Fuck sake.'

Brendan whispers, preparing the sofa because he assumes that Steven doesn't want to be in the same bed as him tonight. He's slept on the sofa a couple of times during petty domestics, has always regretted it in the morning because he wakes up with a stiff neck.

'Brendan.'

Leah's voice comes quietly from behind him but nevertheless, it makes him jump out of his skin. He didn't sense her presence in the room.

'Jesus. Leah you should be in bed.'

Brendan says, walking over and kneeling down in front of her, sweeping away the stray hairs that lurk in front of her face. She clings to her teddy bear, her small, pink dressing gown hanging off her shoulders.

'I heard you and daddy fighting. You're not going to leave are you?'

She rests her small hand on the Irishman's shoulder, her expression enriched with worry. The older man comforts her however, sweeping her up into his arms and making his way towards her bedroom to put her back to bed. He wouldn't leave if someone offered the perfect life to him on a silver platter. He strangely likes the petty domestic disputes, likes having someone to fight with and fight for, he likes having a reason to stay. Brendan used to think that caring made a person weak. Now he realises that caring and loving someone is what makes you a human and it's the strongest emotion that a person could feel. He treasures the emotion because for most of his life, he never knew what it felt like to love and be loved.

'Course I'm not leaving. I wouldn't leave you and Lucas for the world you know that.'

'Yeah but would you leave daddy?'

She challenges, clambering back underneath her pink duvet and bringing it up to her chin, teddy resting upright and wrapped in its own designated blanket.

'No. I would never leave your dad. I love him too much.'

'But you were fighting.'

'Yeah. Yeah we were. But it doesn't mean we don't love each other. Sometimes, people fight _because_ they love each other, because we care about them. You and Lucas fight don't you? But you still love him. If I'm honest Leah, the idea of me and your dad not being together scares me. I'd do anything for him and I'd do anything for you guys too.'

* * *

Brendan slept on the sofa as planned, after reading a bedtime story to Leah in order to send her back off to sleep. His initial thoughts about the sofa are proven to be correct. He wakes up with an extremely stiff neck and it draws an expletive as he sits up and tries to twist his head from side to side. He slept in his clothes like a child, smells of sweat and alcohol from the busy shift and he makes his way to the bathroom to clean himself up.

A shower loosens up the muscles in his neck and Brendan's now able to move his head without swearing. A quick and careful shave gets rids of his over night stubble, makes his skin silky smooth, something that Steven likes to rub his face against when it's just been done but Brendan has a hunch that that won't be happening this morning.

Steven is doing the dishes when he exits the bathroom, blue dressing gown engulfing him, his hair mussed in every direction. The foam from the soap soaks his wrists, dark hairs becoming more prominent from the saturation. He still manages to look like a prince, even when he's just rolled out of bed.

Brendan creeps up behind him and wraps the boy up in his arms, slips his hands into the rim of his boxers to get a feel of his warm skin.

'Morning.'

'No, don't you do that right.'

Steven tries to unravel himself but to no avail, Brendan's grip being too strong. This is how it goes, how it always goes. They fight, someone makes the first move, they have a hell of a shag and then they're fine.

'Do what?'

'Act like nothing's happened.'

'Fuck sake Steven, why are you still hung up on that? The only reason that it's taking me so long is because I'm taking precautions. I don't want another Kevin do I?'

The boy's struggles come to a halt. He turns in Brendan's embrace, finally looks at him, lip protruding and brows hung low. His typical guilty expression.

'No. I'm sorry, I just...I don't want you to find another barman, who's younger and better looking than me. I don't want you to leave me.'

Brendan tuts, his grip tightening around Steven's waist.

'You seriously don't understand how much I love you, do you?'

He says with a slightly frustrated sigh. He wishes he could drill it into Steven's brain and make it stay there, make him comprehend the extent he'd go to in order to keep him.

'I love you too. I just don't want to lose you again; to prison or to another bloke. To anything.'

'You won't I promise. You're my life Steven. You, Leah and Lucas. I wouldn't throw that all away for some nobody.'

Brendan says it with so much conviction, needs Steven to believe him because he has never been so certain of anything in his life. The boy says nothing, just gives a small and unsure smile which Brendan wipes off his face with a kiss, making his point imperative. A hungry groan escapes Steven's lips as he wraps his arms around Brendan's neck, fingers raking through his wet hair and nails dragging across his scalp, always has a tendency to lose himself when kissing the Irishman.

'Eww daddy stop snogging!'

The pair pull apart slowly, drunk on each other's kiss. They hadn't noticed Leah bound in. When looking over at her they both chuckle in unison as they spot her with her hands covering her eyes, blond hair resting knotted on her shoulders from her just waking up.

'Right. I've got to go food shopping in a bit so look after the kids for me will you? I'll try not to be too long.'

Steven says, returning to washing the dishes as Leah switches on the T.V and gets lost in her favourite morning show. Brendan usually hates shopping, detests it in fact, would rather stick pins in his eyes than have to trail up and down aisles as Steven takes hours comtemplating on what cheese he should get. But he's had a change of heart today, wants to make an effort and show Steven that he really loves him by enduring the thing he hates the most. It's also a way to sneak in the bad things that he wants, doughnuts and Ben and Jerry's fish food ice cream.

Steven will hate him for it, has loved how muscular Brendan got during his time in prison, has a habit of caressing the Irishman's biceps when ever he can, always treasures the contours of Brendan's back when they're fucking.

'Why don't we go together? Bring the kids with us?'

Steven looks at him as if he's gone mad, comes to a halt with washing the dishes and leans against the counter, folding his arms.

'You hate shopping.'

'Well, I've got nothing important to do today so... What do you say?'

Brendan wraps the boy up in his arms once again, slips his hands underneath his white shirt to touch his warm, golden skin, goosebumps raising as his flesh is exposed to the cooler air of the kitchen.

'What about those interviews and stuff?'

'Hey. I'm making time for you here. You want me to come with you or not?'

'Sorry. Yeah. Thank you. Let me just grab a shower and then we can go.'

After Steven has taken a quick shower and after Brendan has sucked an orgasm out of him, all four of them set off to the super market, Lucas held in Brendan's arms and Leah holding both his and Steven's hand. The journey isn't too strenuous but Lucas is walking on his own two feet by the time they get there because he was making Brendan's arm ache. The Irishman forgets how big he has gotten since he was in prison.

'Right you two, don't go running off. Stay with me because you need to help me choose what to put in your school lunch boxes.'

Brendan regrets coming already, trails miserably behind the trolley as Steven picks things up from the shelves only to put them back a second later. He spies everything he wants, everything that makes his mouth water. A tub of profiteroles, packets of jammy dodgers, the jam ones because they're the best. He thought it was an outrage when they advertised chocolate and custard ones on the telly.

'Oi. Just because you're back from prison doesn't mean you can let yourself go.'

Steven says, had obviously seen Brendan eyeing up everything that is bad for the human body.

'A man's got to eat Steven.'

'Well I gave you a high protein breakfast this morning. You can't seriously be hungry already.'

Steven says, his voice lowered and eyes enriched with lust. He never talks filthily in public, always blushes and shies away in embarrassment but that's seemingly changed today.

'You dirty little tart.'

Brendan whispers, doesn't want Leah and Lucas to hear their x rated conversation but they're too busy arguing over what flavour of crisps are the best. He leans in to kiss Steven's lips, quick and domestic and while he's at it he has a sneaky grope of Steven's crotch for good measure, is strangely satisfied to discover that he is sporting a semi.

'Brendan. We're in public.'

He bats Brendan's hand away with a cheeky smile, takes his lip between his teeth in order to keep control, to prevent himself from dropping everything and dragging Brendan back to the flat to let him pummel his ass like a pie.

'Daddy! Aren't cheese and onion crisps the best?'

Leah pipes, tugging on his t-shirt and holding a packet of six up to him that she's wondered off to retrieve.

'No salt and vinegar are!'

Lucas drags his chosen packet of six behind him and throws it into the trolley as if his decision is final.

'Sorry Leah. You know Salt and Vinegar are my favourite. We'll get your ones next time.'

She thumps her foot against the floor in a tantrum and folds her arms, frowns. Evidently unimpressed.

'What?! No way. Cheese and Onion are the best.'

Brendan says, taking the big pack of crisps out of Leah's hand and placing it in the trolley.

'If Brendan says they're the best then they must be.'

Leah brags with a vain smile on her face, taking hold of Brendan's hand and swinging it triumphantly.

'Well that's tough. They always want different things and I can't afford to get it all.'

'Let me pay for it then.'

'No Brendan, I don't want your money. I can pay to feed my own kids.'

Brendan touches his hand to Steven's wrist, can see how agitated he is about this. Steven's never liked the idea of people judging him, thinking that he can't pay for his own children, thinking that he can't cope. With Brendan it's no different. He doesn't want him to think that he can't manage.

'Steven this is my family too. Let me do my bit. You don't have to do everything by yourself. We share the load okay?'

'Fine. I just don't want you thinking that I-'

'I don't. You just need to stop being so stubborn.'

Steven smiles shyly and reaches up for a kiss before continuing on down the aisle, Lucas at his side whilst Leah trails behind holding Brendan's hand, skipping now that she has gotten what she wants.

'Leah I want you to do something for me.'

Brendan whispers, kneeling down to her level and watching after Steven to make sure he doesn't turn around to see him sneaking about.

'What is it?'

'You've got to be really sneaky okay?'

She nods enthusiastically with a cheesy grin, likes what is being proposed already.

'I want you to go to the grown up aisle with the adult drinks and get me a bottle of whiskey. One that says Jack Daniels on it. But you can't let your dad see it okay? Otherwise we'll both be in trouble.'

Her expression turns serious when she realises that she could potentially get into trouble. She won't of course, but Brendan has been gagging for a whiskey for months. When he first came out of prison he turned to the drink, drowned his sorrows at the bottom of the glass. You could say he became an alcoholic. The only reason Steven discovered him is because Brendan got so drunk one night that he returned to the village in search of the boy, turned up at his door in tears and tried to kiss him. Steven proceeded to throw up at the shock of his return and glared at Brendan whilst he sobered up, offered him the sofa for the night and kicked him out the next day after a blazing argument.

'Okay, go get it.'

Brendan watches as she skips off, gets to his feet and hopes that Steven has put enough food in the trolley so he can hide the bottle underneath something. By the time they get to the check out, it'll be too late to put it back. It's not that Steven doesn't want him to drink, it's that he's worried he'll go back to his drunken state in which he found him. In prison, Brendan took anger management classes, he dealt with the issues he'd suffered in silence with. It took months and months for him to open up about anything, his dad, Cheryl, Steven. As soon as he told them about what really happened (leaving out the part that it was actually Cheryl who had shot their father), they re-opened the case and appealed, blamed the trauma of what Seamus had done, said that it lead Brendan to kill him and all of a sudden his sentence was significantly decreased. His sessions weren't completed before his release date and he was still suffering nightmares, flashbacks. When he was with Steven before, happy and content, he could sleep at night knowing he was safe. When he was alone after his release, whiskey became his best friend.

Brendan goes on a search for Steven, eventually finds him down the aisle littered with biscuits and snacks. Lucas is standing on the edge of the trolley, clinging to Steven's arms to support himself so he doesn't slip off.

'Don't forget...'

'Jammy dodgers I know. I've already put them in.'

Steven says, pulling down a packet of Oreos on Lucas' behalf and placing them into the trolley with care. Nothing irritates he and Brendan more than opening a new packet of biscuits to find the first three broken.

Brendan suddenly spots Leah at the end of the aisle with his desired Jack Daniels. He panics slightly, grips the back of Steven's t-shirt and pulls him around so his back is facing her.

'What you doing?'

'Can't a man give his boyfriend a kiss without being questioned?'

Brendan says, trying not to look past him as Leah draws closer. Instead he closes his eyes and passionately kisses Steven in the middle of the supermarket. The boy gives in, wraps his arms around Brendan's neck and releases a hungry groan, kisses him with the same intensity. The Irishman opens his eyes momentarily to watch Leah place the bottle behind two loaves of bread and she reorganises the contents of the trolley so it's completely hidden.

'What was that for?'

Steven asks when Brendan pulls away, a blush rising in his cheeks.

'Nothing I just...I love you is all.'

'N'awww. I love you too.'

He kisses Brendan again, once, twice, and then pulls away, turning back to the trolley and supporting Lucas once again.

'We better hurry up and get this shopping done otherwise we'll be here forever.'

The older man watches as they continue on down towards the bakery section, guilt bubbling in the bottom of his stomach.

'I did it.'

Leah says with a devious smile on her face, a smile that Brendan returns but his is more uncertain, more on edge. He trails behind sceptically from there on, has very little input on what they should get. Steven doesn't question his mood change, simply thinks that he has reverted back to his old, miserable ways.

At the check out, Brendan couldn't act any more guilty. He thinks about owning up here and now, telling Steven that he snuck in the bottle out of his own accord. But he doesn't want to create a scene, knows how the boy will react.

'Do you think we should put some things back? This lot will cost a fortune.'

The younger man asks, pulling things out and resting them on the conveyor belt.

'It's fine. I can afford it.'

Brendan reassures him with a tight smile, shoves his hands into his pockets awkwardly and shifts on his feet, didn't really think about this part.

'Daddy I need the toilet.'

Lucas says, crossing his legs and bouncing up and down on the spot.

'Fine. Bren will you finish this lot off? I'll be back in a minute.'

'Sure.'

Whether Lucas' toiletry need is a God send or a trap Brendan doesn't know but he quickly pulls out the Jack Daniels from behind the bread and buries it at the bottom of a bag, stacks it up with all of the biscuits and snacks so it's cleverly concealed.

Brendan has already paid upon Steven's return. He holds the bag containing his whiskey firmly in his right hand, is carrying many other bags to try and disguise that fact. Steven doesn't seem suspicious, simply smiles and carries the remaining shopping out of the supermarket. The journey home isn't too long, not long enough to drive there and back anyway and within fifteen minutes they're back at the flat.

Not many words are exchanged on the journey back and Brendan isn't sure if it's his guilt eating away at him that's keeping him silent or whether there is genuinely nothing to talk about.

'Right, I'm going to go toilet. Then I'll help you put this lot away.'

Brendan says when they're inside, putting his bags down behind Steven's in the hope that he'll put those away last so Brendan has the time to hide the whiskey. He goes towards the bathroom, shuts the door and locks it behind him, letting out a deep, shaky sigh as he studies himself in the mirror. He shouldn't have lied, shouldn't have gone behind Steven's back because he is far from an idiot. After taking a piss, washing his hands and splashing some cold water over his face, he composes himself and wonders back into the kitchen casually, trying to keep a calm demeanour.

It's immediately shattered.

Steven has found the whiskey, and more to the point, he's unscrewed the cap and is now pouring it down the sink, the only sound being the liquid glugging in the bottle as it empties slowly.

'Don't know how this managed to slip into our shopping. Do you?'

Steven asks, his voice high pitched and sounding genuinely intrigued. He knows, knows that Brendan has deceived him.

'Look. Steven. I can explain.'

'Explain? Explain what Brendan? How you bribed my daughter to get you a bottle of alcohol and slip it into our shopping thinking that I wouldn't realise?!'

He barks, slamming the bottle into the sink, the neck cracking and shattering away from its body. Brendan flinches ever so slightly, tries to gulp down the lump in his throat.

'Yeah. I did see you. And yes, I knew what you were up to as soon as Leah magically turned up after you kissed me in the middle of the aisle. I love how you made her reorganise everything in the trolley too. Nice touch.'

'I just wanted a drink Steven.'

'So why didn't you just ask me?!'

'Since when was it up to you to decide when I can and can't drink?!'

'And when did you turn Leah into your little alcohol mule to go behind my back?! She's eight years old Brendan!'

'Fuck this.'

Brendan curses, picking his keys out of his pocket and making his way towards the front door, won't stand here and be shouted for making his own decisions. Steven is right on one account. Brendan shouldn't have bought Leah into this but it's his choice to drink if he wants to.

'Oh and where do you think you're going?'

'To the club. A place where you can't scrutinise me for every fucking decision I make.'

'No don't you walk away from me Brendan. Brendan!'

The Irishman slams the door closed before Steven can say another word. The boy sighs in disbelief and begins to pick the glass out of the sink carefully, dropping the shards into the bin. The smell of whiskey is so strong that he can nearly taste it, feel the burn at the back of his throat. It brings back so many memories. That smell, the taste, the burn. The first being their first kiss, when Steven had the courage to make the first move. The alcohol had set his throat on fire and kissing Brendan for the first time made his lips feel like they were ablaze as well. The second, is when Brendan was taken away from him. He turned to the drink, _Brendan's_ drink. Bought the stuff all the time just so he could feel close to him. It numbed the pain.

Frustrated, he leans on the counter with his elbows and buries his face in his hands, lets out a deep, exasperated sigh.

'I don't like it when you fight.'

Leah's quiet voice comes from behind. Steven turns to find her leaning against the wall, head resting on the corner.

'We didn't fight sweetheart. We just didn't agree on something.'

He crosses over to her and sinks to his knees, takes both of Leah's small hands into his own to try and make her understand.

'You were shouting.'

'Yeah I know we were. Daddy Brendan just did something silly that's all. He told fibs and we don't do that do we?'

She shakes her head, slightly unsure. She doesn't understand the entire situation, can't comprehend the hurt and betrayal that Steven is feeling.

'But why did you have to fight?'

He sighs, conflicted on what he should say to her. Her mind is still young and absorbent and Steven doesn't want to ruin this perfect, young image of the world that she has at the moment, can't subject her to that brutality.

'We just...adults fight sometimes Leah. Sometimes, we can be so angry that we feel like we have to fight. We don't think about a better way to solve things and that's what me and Brendan just did.'

'I think he was scared daddy.'

Leah's reply catches the Mancunian off guard. Brendan is the strongest, most fearless man he's ever known. Why would he be scared?

'Why's that?'

'Because he said so.'

'What do you mean sweetheart? What's he scared of?'

'He said that the idea of not having you scared him.'

Steven's face relaxes, a dense, heavy feeling of warmth brewing in his chest as he looks to the floor, seems to do that all the time as if searching for some sort of guidance. He wasn't angry because Brendan wanted a drink. He was angry because he went behind his back. Yes, they went through a hell of a lot when Brendan came out of prison and didn't know how to handle himself. Steven had to drag him home pissed out of his mind, would have to make him attend counselling sessions sober when all Brendan wanted to do was lie on the sofa all day or drown his sorrows at the pub. It wasn't the sort of reunion he was expecting. He didn't think they'd have a reunion at all.

'Right. Well, go play in your room while I finish with this shopping yeah?'

The boy gets to his feet and watches after Leah as she sprints off back to her room, the sound of toys clattering together as she rummages through her toy box.

Steven smiles to himself, all of that previous pent up anger and frustration fading away. He can't help but feel an undying love whenever he and Brendan have an argument. This life, the two of them being together and fighting all of the inner demons, letting everything out of the closet and attempting to live a normal life was never going to be easy. There's history, something they're both willing to forget but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.

He carries on putting the shopping away, picking out the Jammie Dodgers and placing them in Brendan's designated cupboard so the kids don't get hold of them. Steven always gets paranoid when Brendan stomps out after a domestic, can't help but feel like he's pushing him away and potentially into the arms of another.

It begins to eat at him.

There's no doubt that Brendan's gone to the club. He said and there's no where else he could possibly be. It's busy every night with first year university students so his presence is usually required. What if there's another boy? Young and blonde and skinny and better looking, face carved by angels and skin so smooth that men would be battling to touch it. What if he has Brendan wrapped around him right now? What if he's kissing those lips, touching those muscles and treasuring him in the way that Steven normally does?

The thought makes Steven's grip around the Jammie Dodgers tighten; so hard that they crumble within the packet. The Mancunian pulls out his phone from his trouser pocket and attempts to ring the older man, his heart and paranoia forever increasing as it continues to go unanswered.

'Fuck.'

He throws his phone on the side in frustration and grapples with the remaining shopping, slams the jars of jam and dolmio down hard in the cupboard, is surprised the glass hasn't shattered beneath his hands.

* * *

Steven's managed to resist. Four hours it's been and all the boy has done is pace the kitchen whilst chewing on his nails and settling for a bit of mindless television. It's been on but he hasn't particularly paid any attention. Every ten seconds his attention has been drawn to his phone. He's constantly checked it for any missed calls, a text. Something.

'Leah! Josh from upstairs is going to come down and look after you for a bit okay? I've just got to pop out quickly.'

'Okay.'

He jogs upstairs to the flat above and makes quick arrangements with the youth that lives there, offers him a tenner to look after the kids while he's gone and the kid agrees. He's a nice enough guy, has looked after the kids on a couple of occasions. He's trustworthy, Steven will give him that. Brendan isn't so comfortable leaving the children with a stranger.

Steven tries to ring Brendan as he walks off in the direction of the club but he doesn't receive an answer. The feeling of jealousy is suddenly replaced by anxiousness and worry. Brendan doesn't always answer the phone. The boy knows that. But it wouldn't take a lot for Brendan to relapse and go overboard with the drinking. The argument is more than likely to spur him on.

As he enters the club he hears a deep mumbling, the indistinct sound of talking. He can make out two different voices, one most definitely Brendan's but he has never heard the other before. A lump rises in Steven's throat as he slowly begins to climb the stairs, the voices becoming more comprehensible as he draws closer.

'Fuck your job. Come home with me.'

That sentence causes Steven to halt suddenly in his tracks, his grip on the railing tightening, skin burning with hurt and wrath and betrayal and upset.

'I can't. I've been employed to work and I take my job seriously.'

'I can give you a night to remember.'

Brendan's drunk. He's slurring, words merging into one incoherent sentence. Steven is sure that he can hear the sloshing of liquid in a bottle, is tempted to go up there and smash that bottle in front of him as well but pour the contents over his beloved suit instead of the down the sink.

'I'd rather be employed.'

The mystery man huffs a laugh and Steven wants to shut him up immediately by smashing his fist into this man's mouth, is squeezing the railing so tight that he's sure his hand print will be embedded into the metal when he lets go.

Then he hears it, the thing he's been listening out for especially but been praying that he wouldn't hear. The sound of lips against each other, the slight suction and mixing of tongue. It rips the heart out of the boy, makes him feel like he's going to be sick. How could Brendan do this to him? After everything they've been through. The separation, living without each other, trying to get one another's lives back on track. They've dealt with that and now it's suddenly thrown down the drain after one stupid fight.

Steven can't listen to it, feels a tear run down his cheek and turns to barge out of the door as fast as he can.

'Oi you two! Either get to work or get out of my club! I don't want to watch you sucking face.'

Brendan barks from the doorway of his office to two employees who stand behind the bar in a clinch.

'It's dead boss. There's nothing to do.'

Aaron sighs. He's young, average looking, average height. Just an all round average guy.

'Nothing to do? Apart from Stacey you mean?'

The Irishman replies sardonically, gripping the neck of a bottle of whiskey firmly in his left hand. He's not pissed, just slightly tipsy. He's not seeing double as of yet. The young woman standing next to Aaron blushes as she straightens out her skirt, wipes her bottom lip subtly with her thumb.

'Can we borrow your office?'

The younger man asks with a joking smile on his face, winks as he watches Stacey fidget next to him and fiddle with the glasses on the bar.

'You most certainly can not. That's Steven's spot you know that. If you look closely, you can see a little dent in the surface of the desk from his arse.'

'Eurgh. So is he going to be our new bouncer or what?'

Aaron asks, flattening down the back of his hair and changing the subject fast as to not remind himself of the time in which he walked in on Steven naked and flat on the desk with his legs around Brendan's neck, sweating and panting and jolting from being pounded for half an hour.

The 6ft 4, tattooed and muscular man standing opposite Brendan shifts awkwardly, holds a demeanour that is unusual for such a large man. He's nervous, is looking at the floor slightly taken aback by Aaron's previous remark.

'Steven he's... He's my boyfriend. You'll meet him eventually.'

'I look forward to it.'

He says, slightly unsure and Brendan studies him closely, is probably intimidating him in some way with how close he is but the drink is making him disregard personal space.

'Boss. You call me boss now.'

'You...You mean I've got the job?'

He looks at Brendan with a sense of relief, everything that was previously uncomfortable about him suddenly relaxing and reforming into a smile.

'Yeah. Course you do. You've proved to me that you're serious about the job, and it seems like you can handle yourself in any scenario. Especially with the ladies. I can't be dealing with people who intend to mess me about. You're perfect for it.'

Brendan says it with real sincerity, likes this guy already. Not in a sexual way but a part of him did hire this man because he's something nice to look at. Brendan would never act on it though, wouldn't dream of it when he's got embodied perfection waiting for him at home, when he has a family to look after.

'Right well, you start tomorrow.'

Says the Irishman as he takes a swig from his whiskey bottle. Unprofessional he knows but this guy seems desperate so he probably doesn't care. Brendan should remember his newest employees name but he doesn't, will find out eventually when he re-reads his CV with sober eyes.

'Right, well I'm getting off early. Got some serious making up to do with my boy. Cash up, make sure everything's clean. You can have the rest of the night off. '

Brendan sits in his office until everything is done, drinks and pigs out on the week old packet of jammy dodgers that he has in the drawer of his desk. He doesn't talk to anyone, simply stumbles out when everything is done and locks up, grunts farewell and tries to make his way home without falling over. It's a tricky task but he makes it to the front door of the flat without a scratch.

The older man tries to remain quiet, hushes himself when a noise appears to be too loud for his liking. It's dark outside so he is assuming that the kids have been put to bed. Steven is surprisingly awake however, sat on the sofa, arms folded and eyes red.

He hasn't...

He's not been crying?

Surely?

Steven isn't one for crying when they have a domestic.

'So where is he?'

The boy asks, not taking his gaze away from the wall. Brendan's sways, resting his elbow against the wall for stability.

'What?'

'Thought you were bringing him home? At least, that's what I heard you saying earlier. So come on. Where is he?'

He gets to his feet suddenly, so quick that Brendan nearly goes cross eyed, unable to keep his eyes on him steadily.

'What are you talking about?'

'I heard you Brendan! Stop thinking that I'm stupid! I heard you trying to convince some guy to come back here so you could shag him! Then I heard you kissing him...'

He cuts off suddenly, lip quivering and eyes watering, swelling and spilling, hot tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. Sighing, Steven takes himself to his bedroom before Brendan can say a word and he closes the door behind him, a clear indication for Brendan not to follow, so he doesn't. He flops on the sofa and that is his bed for a second night.

* * *

Waking up hungover is always a mission for Brendan. His head hurts, his senses are extra sensitive, meaning he can smell the alcohol on himself, the sweat, the stale morning breath. It makes his stomach churn. The sound of the birds singing outside is enhanced and it sounds like they're chirping in his ear, loud and intrusive and their song echo's in his eardrums.

It takes him a moment to realise that he's on the floor instead of the sofa, probably found that his neck was getting stiff in the early hours of the morning and rolled off deliberately.

His head pulses as he stands, his balance still off and he nearly falls back to the floor when the room spins.

'Jesus.'

The kids are thankfully still asleep, making the most of the weekend so it seems so Brendan takes advantage of a silent house to have a shower and down several glasses of water. The warmth and steam from the shower seems to lessen his headache, washes away the odour of old alcohol and makes him feel a little less groggy.

As Brendan exits the bathroom and heads towards his bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt outside. Steven probably doesn't want to see him, let alone talk to him. The last thing Brendan wants to do is have another argument, but he needs to explain himself, explain that he would never ever cheat no matter how far he was pushed. Plus, he needs to get changed, won't walk around all day with a towel wrapped low around his waist.

The Irishman tries knocking, taps his knuckles gently against the wooden door but receives no response. After a deep breath, he takes the plunge and enters, is slightly taken aback when he sees the boy curled up, wide awake, his eyes red raw from crying and constant rubbing.

'I miss this.'

He mumbles, voice cracking and eyes watering once again.

'Miss what?'

Brendan asks sceptically, resting his back against the door. The wood is cold against his warm skin and it causes him shudder, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

'This.'

Steven turns round a photo frame that rests on the bedside cabinet of Brendan and himself smiling on their first holiday after Brendan had gotten out of prison. They're at the top of the Eiffel Tower, the whole of Paris acting as they're oyster. It was ridiculously romantic, the idea almost too sickly for Brendan's taste but it didn't feel like it when they were there. Amy had the children and it was just the two of them, alone and happy.

'I didn't cheat Steven.'

'I swear to God if you try and lie to me again then I'll-'

'It was Aaron. Okay? Aaron and Stacey. You heard them kissing not me. And as for the whole _come back with me_ thing, it was role play. I wanted to know how my new bouncer would do under pressure if the opportunity to get laid presented itself. It was a test Steven. I could have told you that if you'd given me a chance.'

Brendan's tone is bitter, venomous, but it irritates him when Steven doesn't think he's enough, when he thinks the worst of him. He always jumps to conclusions.

'Seriously?'

The boy asks as he sits up in bed, his dark t-shirt crumpled from a restless night. Brendan nods, rubbing his forearms to try and insulate some of his heat. The boy rubs his palms into his eyes, evidently frustrated with himself. He grips his hair firmly and Brendan can see him smiling with relief, a smile that immediately falls when he next looks at the Irishman and realises how hurt he is.

'I'm sorry. Brendan... I am so sorry. Fuck, why am I so stupid?!'

'You're not stupid.'

Brendan mumbles as Steven climbs out of bed and crosses the room to stand in front of the older man, his hands held out and he's about to touch but he doesn't. It's a little too awkward for physical contact.

'Please. Forgive me, I didn't mean to judge you I just... I heard it all and I was too hurt to confront you there and then. I had to get out of there because I thought that you didn't want me any more and I'm just...so so sorry Brendan. Let me make it up to you. Please.'

He's panicking, stumbling over every other word and his eyes are wide with worry. He's messed up. Big time. Brendan should walk away right now, doesn't deserve to be accused every ten seconds. But he isn't the sort who holds grudges, he's far too in love with Steven for one to last.

Brendan does the exact opposite, hooks his fingers into the collar of Steven's t-shirt and pulls him into his body to plant a passionate kiss on his lips. The younger man clings to him, fingers dragged into his hair and arms wrapped so tightly around his neck that it seems like he'll never let go.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

Steven gasps desperately, standing on his tip toes to kiss Brendan as hard and as passionately as he can to make his apology imperative, needs Brendan to believe him.

'Stop apologising.'

'No. I was wrong to accuse you like that. And the whole whiskey thing. I weren't mad because you wanted a drink. I was mad because you lied to me. Right, I know that you're never going to go back to the way you was before. I promise I'll never accuse you again okay?'

Brendan hums neutrally, a smirk appearing on his face as Steven unhooks the towel around his waist and lets it drop to the floor. He's sporting a semi already, Steven's kiss alone being able to do that to him. He kisses him again and runs a single finger over the girth of Brendan's cock, can feel it getting harder and more strained against his fingertips, balls swelling as he strokes lightly and languidly and Steven pulls away to watch the beautiful pain spread across Brendan's face. The Irishman tries to keep still, rests his hands by his side and take his lip between his teeth as he watches himself being played with.

Steven moves onto his neck, plants a gentle kiss over the vain there, careful and so tentative, continues to lightly touch him and he dips his fingers into Brendan's pink slit, gathers all of the leaking pre-cum and smears it over the sensitive head, brings his index finger to his mouth to lick anything that is remaining and Brendan watches with dark eyes, pupils fully dilated, breath hitching.

The boy returns his attention to Brendan's neck, plants small, sucky kisses over every inch, down along his collarbones and into the dip of his throat and the Irishman leans his head back against the door, allows Steven the access that he needs. Steven knows that Brendan likes pain, knows that he gets off on having nails dug into his back and being littered with bite marks and bruises. He takes a chunk of the older man's neck between his teeth and chews, hard, the deep grumble in Brendan's chest acting as an indicator as to whether it's hard enough. Brendan looses it for a split second, pushes Steven back and across the room until he's flat on the bed, spread before him like Jesus on the cross, ready for the taking. He's still clothed, t-shirt slightly ridden up over his hips revealing that stupid little tattoo that Brendan loves to chew on. His boxers are lower than they were before, dark hairs peering out of the top. There's a wet patch between his legs, pre-cum leaking and staining the front and Brendan dips his head between Steven's legs to suck on that wet patch, the salty taste exploding over his taste buds. He flicks his tongue, moulds his mouth around his rock solid dick and Steven is on the verge of screaming, has his lip clamped between his teeth so hard that blood is rising to the surface. Brendan can't help but lick him, taste him, lifts his shirts up and drags his tongue up Steven's body from the bottom of his belly to his chest, sucks and bites on each nipple before shoving his tongue into Seven's mouth so he can taste himself.

'Strip.'

Brendan orders tearing his mouth away and getting onto his knees on the bed, watches as Steven shakily removes his t-shirt, his hands trembling as he fumbles to remove his boxers and chuck them across the room, failing to land them in the laundry basket.

'You're gunna sit on my face, let me tongue you open.'

He spits filthily as he lies on his back, watches Steven gulp around the lump in his throat and Brendan smiles, has him where he wants him already, quivering and trembling. Steven straddles Brendan's chest, knees either side of his face and the older man pulls him down into a seating position, parts his cheeks and swipes his tongue inside, makes the boy keen forward and grip onto Brendan's thighs at the sudden wave of pleasure that shoots up his spine.

'Oh god.'

He chokes, backing down slowly and Brendan eats at his hole viscously without warning, grips Steven's waist so he can't jerk forward again. He tastes exquisite. It draws a hungry groan from Brendan, deep and primal and animalistic and the vibrations stimulate the nerves of Steven's entrance even further, make him grit his teeth and dig his nails into Brendan's thighs as his head drops forward, a choked sob punching out of his chest.

'Hey. I got a raging boner that's in need of your attention boy.'

The older man says, lifting his hips minutely to reiterate his point. Steven says nothing, simply leans forward and takes all of Brendan's cock down his throat, manages to stay there and hold it, slowly circulates his tongue around the head and slides away with ease and without gagging. The Irishman jolts and groans around Steven's hole, gives his peachy ass a firm slap and uses the heel of his foot to find the back of Steven's head, pushes down so he can feed his dick back into that wet, warm mouth, wants to feel the back of his throat constricting around him. The boy abides, fists Brendan's cock and sucks at the same time and fuck; he knows how to give a good blow job. The older man repays him, doesn't cease the attack on his hole, tongues it rapidly until he can put the tip of his tongue inside and persist even further with the onslaught. Within minutes he has Steven screaming around his cock, only adds to his beautiful agony further by slipping a finger in next to his tongue, right down to the knuckle so he can rub on his prostate.

'Fuck. Stop. Brendan stop. I'm gunna-'

'Don't. Don't cum yet.'

'Stop then.'

Brendan grips the base of Steven's cock hard, moves away from his hole and begins to suck on his balls instead, has him screaming and fumbling, trying to move away but Brendan's too strong, is making him live through the torture of an orgasm but not being able to shoot his load.

'Fuck! I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.'

The Irishman sniggers as he tugs and rolls Steven's balls in his mouth even more, as he continues to cut off his orgasm. He pays for it though, has the boy digging his nails so hard into his thighs that it leaves small blood blisters.

'Jesus.'

Brendan gasps as he examines the cuts on the inside of his legs, after Steven has climbed off his face and begins rummaging around in the bedside cabinet for lube, throwing out empty bottles and tossing them aside in frustration. Once he's found a new, unopened bottle he turns and sees the damage he's done, his jaw dropping.

'Shit did I do that?!'

He asks, rubbing his fingertips over Brendan's leg.

'No it was the non-existent cat.'

'Shut up.'

Steven replies with a blush, knows it was an idiotic question but it was rhetorical. Brendan always has a tendency to reply with sarcastic comments, a characteristic that prison didn't take away from him. The Mancunian squirts a fair load of lube into his hand and begins to jerk Brendan off. They've done this for a while, fucked bareback, nothing between them. They went through the correct procedure, checked for STI's and they both came back clear. Needless to say, they shagged as soon a they got through the front door.

'What do you want Steven? Tell me.'

Brendan touches his finger underneath the boy's chin, lifts so he's looking at him in the eyes. Brendan likes having the control there's no denying, but there's nothing he loves more than letting Steven decide what they should do, whether it's extremely dirty and kinky or relatively clean.

'Just sit back. I'm gunna ride you and you're gunna cum inside me.'

It's messy and sticky but fuck it feels good. It draws a smile from Brendan and he kisses the boy gently on the lips for good measure before sitting back against the head board and pulling the boy on top of him. Steven fists Brendan's dick a couple of times, quick, hard strokes before pressing the head against his hole and slowly allowing it to breach his rim. It stings, makes him suck in a deep breath and Brendan runs his hands up Steven's thighs for comfort, kisses the side of his face and asks if he is okay. He nods and sinks lower, relaxes the muscles of his inner walls and slides all the way down until he's fully seated, Brendan completely filling him.

'Jesus you're so tight.'

The older man chokes, resting his head against Steven's chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his thin body, caressing the soft skin underneath his palms. The boy slowly gyrates his hips, moves in a circular motion and angles his hips so the head of Brendan's dick presses against the spot that sets his body on fire, the spot that makes him erupt like a volcano and makes him lose all of his inhibitions.

'You love my cock inside you don't you? Love it when I fuck into you nice and hard.'

Steven rests his forehead against Brendan's and nods vigorously, licks his lips and begins to move his hips up and down, milking Brendan's dick with his tight entry, withdrawing the first shocks of an orgasm out of him.

'Dirty whore.'

The Irishman mumbles, his hands resting on Steven's waist and he aids with his movements, brings him down hard to make the boy scream as his prostate is pummelled. He fucks up into him, kisses him passionately and pulls on his hair and touches every bit of flesh that he can, wants him closer, _needs_ him closer and Steven bounces in Brendan's lap, draws heavy breaths out of Brendan's chest and makes him in take sharply. They're breathing each other's carbon dioxide, faces within millimetres of each other and Steven constantly kisses Brendan with such insatiable desire, begins to chew on his lip as his orgasm starts to build. He breaks away, puts his cheek next to Brendan's, his breath hot in his ear and he whispers;

'Make me cum. Make me cum hard.'

Brendan can't deny him his wish, dives his hand between their bodies and takes hold of him and wanks him in time with their movements. Steven starts convulsing, the harsh rhythm rocketing him towards orgasm and then suddenly Brendan is hit with it too, like a hammer between the eyes, the tingle breaking out violently in his pelvic muscles and they're shaking in each other's arms as they spunk near enough at the same time, Steven all over Brendan's chest and fist, Brendan inside Steven, hot, warm ropes of white leaking from his entry as Brendan pulls out to shoot his remaining load over Steven's arse cheeks, the heat almost too much for him.

They cry out at the ecstasy, try to silence it away from the kids by kissing and grunting into each other's mouth. Brendan's drunk with it, his vision blurry yet Steven remains perfectly clear. He's kissing every part of his face, gently along his eye lids and his lips and his jawline, bringing Brendan down slowly and peppering love into every inch of his skin.

'I love you. I love you so much Brendan.'

He kisses the older man's lips, deep and longing and he takes hold of his hands to kiss each knuckle, runs his lip up and over his palms. Steven's chest feels warm and dense and he's never realised how much he's in love with Brendan until now, how his life truly is empty without him. He's obsessed with him, loves him with every fibre of his being.

'Love you more.'

Brendan replies, his eyes closed, the corner of his lip curled into an intoxicated smile.

'Shut up. You don't.'

'I do.'

'No. You don't right.'

The Irishman hums, not convinced. They could argue about it all day.

'Daddy! Mummy is here!'

Leah's voice makes it's way through the door, the sound of knocking filling the room. She's learnt to knock now, was told that it was the polite thing to do. She's also learnt from previous experiences that Steven and daddy Brendan could be in the middle of 'play fighting'. Amy, obviously hasn't sat her own to have 'the talk' yet.

'I'll be back.'

The boy says, kissing Brendan on the lips one more time before shakily clambering off the bed to chuck on some clothes that he finds on the floor, swipes up one of Brendan's hoodies and throws it around himself. It's far too big, hangs off him in fact but Steven has taken a liking to it.

'Hey.'

Brendan calls before Steven can leave the room. He stops and turns, is in the middle of straightening out his hair the best he can.

'I love you, Steven. More than life itself.'

He says it with such sincerity, looks at the boy dead in the eyes when he says each word and he means it, needs him to know. He'll tell him every day for the rest of his life if he has to. Steven runs back to the Irishman and kisses him again, once, twice, three times before Leah is banging the door down again telling him to hurry up.

'Alright! I'm coming. Go and let mummy in.'

He shouts, giving Brendan a bright smile and a final kiss before he jogs out of the room, closing the door behind him. Brendan takes the opportunity to catch up on the sleep that he was depraved of due to sleeping on that fucking uncomfortable sofa. They're getting a new one soon for sure.


End file.
